Joker of Hearts
by LynstHolin
Summary: GEORGE WEASLEY/DRACO MALFOY When Scorpius insists on a visit to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, widower Draco finds more than a Pygmy Puff. Fourth and final chapter added.
1. Chapter 1

Draco was too lost in his thoughts to realize what section of Diagon Alley he was leading his son through. A sudden blast of calliope music coming out an open door made him jump, and Scorpius dropped his father's hand, running across the street toward the source of the noise as fast as his short legs could carry him.

Number 93 Diagon Alley. The last time Draco'd been there, it was to buy the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder that he'd used against Dumbledore's Army in his sixth year at Hogwarts. He had no desire to go back there, but his son was disappearing through the lime-green door. Amazing. When ordered to go to bed, it took the four-year-old eons to walk down a short hallway. But the sight of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had him moving so fast, Draco didn't even have time to call after him.

Draco reached for the doorknob, and it spit out a jet of water at him. Bloody George Weasley hadn't changed a bit, apparently. The inside of the shop was cacaphonous, with the calliope being played by a house elf that was singing along as loudly as he possibly could, completely off-key. It might have been the Holyhead Harpies team song. Pygmy Puffs were bouncing around loose and squeaking. Scorpius was shrieking with delight as a powder pink one perched on his shoulder and stuck its nose in his ear.

"_Scorpius_, how many times have I told you not to run off without me?" Draco grabbed his son by the arm and gave him a shake. The Pygmy Puff let out a terrified squeak. His son's face reddened and crumpled up, a sure sign he was going to start bawling loudly. "Oh, for... I'm sorry, Scorp, please don't cry."

Draco squatted down so he could look the boy in the face and patted his back. He could feel the eyes of every mother in the shop on him, assessing his parenting skills. It happened every place he went with his son. Which was almost everywhere, these days. His wife, unused to Muggles and their contraptions, had walked into a busy London street and been mowed down by a lorry. That had been six months ago, and, ever since, Draco had couldn't stop worrying that his son, so prone to running toward anything that caught his fancy, would meet the same fate.

Scorpius' breathing hitched, but, thankfully, he didn't start howling. Draco couldn't stand the howling. The rational part of his mind accepted that little children cried a lot, but it made his irrational side feel like a failure as a parent. He was sure that the mothers watching him thought the same thing.

"I'll buy you the Pygmy Puff, all right?" Scorpius nodded, wiping some tears away with a fist while a smile crept across his face. Draco knew his father was going to give him another lecture about spoiling his son when they returned to Malfoy Manor with the little puffball; the lectures had become a nearly-daily occurence since Astoria's death. He took his son's tiny hand again. "Let's look around a bit, shall we?" Scorpius bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet.

As they inspected the dancing rubber chickens and the Teddy bears that told awful knock-knock jokes, Draco did his best to ignore the mothers looking at him. It didn't occur to him that they might be staring for another reason beside judging his ability to take care of his son. He didn't hear one woman say to another, "I think I got pregnant just watching those two together."

Someone else was looking, too, his gaze wandering all over the tall, blond man with patrician features, noting how the perfectly tailored robes revealed the way his wide shoulders tapered into slim hips. The sight of the happy little boy that looked so much like his father made the watcher smile.

"May I help you with anything, Malfoy? Snakes in a Can? A garden gnome that sings the Slytherin house song? An Edible Dark Mark, so you and your sprog can match?" It was George Weasley, of course.

"A singing garden gnome?" Scorpius' eyes grew big.

George's boyish looks were accentuated by the lock of flame-red hair that kept falling over his eyes. His shaggy locks concealed his missing ear. His eyes were a coppery color that matched his freckles, and he was grinning. "We also have one that sings 'Weasley is Our King.' I suppose if I sell that one, I owe you part of the profits."

"What on earth are you wearing?" Draco's gaze was riveted on George's shirt. It was short-sleeved, with coconut shaped buttons down the front. Everything printed on the fabric moved: the waves gently rolling on the sandy beach, the palm trees waving in the breeze, the hula dancers wearing grass skirts and coconut bras. There was even a hint of steel guitar and ukulele music coming out of the shirt.

"We're trying out a line of apparel. Interested? I have one in back where the dancers lose their coconuts."

"Ah, that's not what I'm looking for today." Or _ever_. He lifted the Pygmy Puff in the palm of his hand. "We're getting this for sure, but Scorpius wants to look around more."

George knelt down. "That's an excellent choice, Scorpius. Her name is Gertie. Let me show you something." He pulled a purple rose out of a breast pocket and made as if to fasten it to the boy's collar. The flower exploded, and the left sleeve of Scorpius' robes was burned completely off, the ragged edges blackened and smoking.

Scorpius scowled. That set of robes, bright red with a dragon applique on the front, was his favorite. "That was very naughty of you!" Draco had to hold back a laugh at hearing one of his mother's phrases come out of his son's mouth.

George gasped and put a hand to his mouth. "Oh, dear, me! What have I done!" He jabbed a finger at the ceiling. "Look! A pegasus!"

"There's no-hey!" Scorpius marvelled at his fully-restored sleeve and giggled. "You're funny!"

"Your father never seemed to appreciate my sense of humor," George said as he stood up.

"You put a pixie up my robes when I was seven, remember? I'm not going to tell you where it bit me."

"Was that the last time children were allowed at Ministry Christmas parties?"

"No, that was the next year when you and your brother convinced me to sneak into the Magical Creatures department and open all the cages I could reach. What a bloodbath that was. Niffler guts strewn all over the place." Draco grimaced at the memory.

"I'm pretty sure your father tried to get us put in Azkaban for that." The two men watched Scorpius as he explored a display of soft toys, starting up an animated conversation with a corduroy elephant. "I was sorry to hear about your wife. It must be tough on the little one there."

Draco gave George a surprised look. No Weasley had a reason to be sympathic to a _Malfoy_. "Thank you. Yes, it's been hard on him. I do what I can for him, but..."

"Father, may I have the elephant?" Scorpius was doing his best to be adorable, widening his eyes and tilting his head to the side. It was working. The red, button-eyed elephant was in his arms. It lifted its trunk and trumpeted.

"Yes, Scorp, but we should probably pay for our things and get going. You know how your grandmother likes us to eat dinner together."

"Twenty Galleons for the Pygmy Puff. The elephant is a first-time shopper gift." George reached down and ruffled Scorpius' dandelion fuzz hair.

"Thank you very much," Scorpius said in the polite way he had been taught. He hugged the elephant tight.

"That's very kind of you," Draco said as he counted out the Galleons.

George smirked. "I've got myself a customer for life now, for the price of a toy sewn by my mother. Not a bad deal for me." Draco couldn't help but laugh. "I believe that's the first time I've actually made you laugh, Malfoy."

Draco's grin was gorgeous enough to make one woman walk right into a pyramid of stacked Bounce-A-Lot Balls. They really _did _bounce a lot. George watched Draco leave. "Mr. Weasley?" His assistant, Verity, had appeared at his side.

"Hmm?"

"You're staring at nothing."

...

"_Loki, no_!" Draco watched in horror as his father's Irish wolfhound dropped a scrap of powder pink fur from his mouth.

"Father? I can't find Gertie!" Scorpius' voice was coming from the other side of the drawing room door.

Draco put his foot over the sad little remnant just as his son opened the door. "Gertie's gone to visit her parents," he said. His father would fret over the blood on the d'Aubuisson carpet later, but, to Draco, that was nothing. _His son's beloved pet had just been eaten_.

"Gertie has a mummy?"

Oh, Merlin. "Of course. And a daddy. And they both love her very, very much."

"Will she come home soon?"

"Very, very soon. In fact, I'm going to go get her right now. Go find Nanny, won't you, Scorp? She gets lonely without you." He watched his son trot away, making sure he was gone before walking to the fireplace. Draco Flooed directly to 93 Diagon Alley. He dashed through both stories of the shop until he found George, who was working at selling Gro-Bust Potion to a group of flat-chested teenage girls. Putting a hand on George's shoulder, he said, "I need you right now!"

George gave him an amused look. "This is so sudden, Malfoy, but I'm quite flattered."

Draco groaned. "I need a replacement Pygmy Puff. One that looks just like Gertie."

"Oh, dear. What happened?"

"Dog."

"Alas, the canine race does find them quite tasty. Poor Gertie. She was one of my favorites. I must have forgotten to put a _Canis Abhoria _charm on her."

"Do you have a replacement for Gertie? Please say yes."

"One of her daughters, actually. Her name is Aubriana, but she'll learn to answer to Gertie. " George made a 'follow me' gesture and headed toward a back room. The room was lined with cages holding Pymy Puffs in various pastel shades. They all started squeaking as soon as the door was opened. George walked to a cage where a powder pink Puff was bouncing up and down eagerly.

"How much do you want for her? Twenty Galleons?" Draco asked.

George did something most unexpected. He put his hands against the wall, trapping Draco between his arms. "A kiss."

"This isn't that funny, Weasley."

"Perhaps it's not supposed to be." George smirked and move his face closer to Draco's. Their lips touched, and Draco went still. He'd never enjoyed being kissed so much. He'd never been kissed by a man before, either. Astoria had been his best friend, but being with her had never been nearly as exciting as this. Lips, tongue... it was so lovely.

George drew his face back, smiling down at Draco with his copper eyes. "Isn't it much better when you're not trying to hide who you really are?"

"How-how did you know?" Draco thought he'd hidden his feelings from everyone; even from himself,perhaps.

"I know we Weasleys may seem a bit vacant, but, trust me, we're smarter than we look." George pulled Draco closer, running his hands over the blond man's back. "I'm not interested in anything... temporary. Are you interested in something real?"

"I... I just... Your brother was killed by a Death-Eater." Draco pulled away from George and pushed up the left sleeve of his robes.

"And my mother killed your aunt. What does that have to do with us?" George took Draco's left arm and kissed the inner part where the Dark Mark's traces still marred the white skin. Draco gasped at the sweet intimacy of the act. "If you're interested, meet me at Sugarplum's Sweets Shop at five today, and bring your son. I'm a family man."

"Mr. Weasley! There's a group of fifty Durmstrang students!" The shop assistant came running in, looking utterly frazzled. She put her hands over her mouth when she saw the two men so close together. "Oh. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's all right, Verity. Malfoy is leaving. He has some things to think about." George took Aubriana out of her cage and set her in Draco's hands. "I only want you to come if you really are serious. I play around a lot, but when it comes to this... I don't." Verity zipped out of the room to give them some privacy. "But I need to go sell things to Eastern Europeans right now. I trust you can find your way out."

Draco watched George leave the back room. He put his hand to his lips, a look of wonder on his face. Five o' clock, Sugarplum's. He would be there, with Scorpius. He'd probably even be a little early.


	2. Chapter 2

Warnings: kissing, another crime against fashion, fluff, cute kids

...

Draco checked himself out in his full-length mirror for the fifth time in six minutes. His neatly trimmed hair was perfectly in place. HIs tasteful and expensive robes complimented the color of his eyes and his slim build. He looked fine. _Why am I acting like a schoolgirl going to her first dance? It's George Weasley, of all people. He'll probably be wearing plaid with stripes. _Draco did know why. It was his first _man_. He'd spent all those years hiding his true self, but somehow George had managed to see through him.

Draco had been drawn to the Weasley twins when he was a child, which was why they'd had the opportunity to torture him so many times at Ministry parties. Their cheerful chaos was so different from anything else he knew. The last incident at a Ministry party, though, had put him off them for a while. Fred and George had convinced him that all the animals in the Magical Creatures department were very, very sad because they were in cages, and that they would all be very, very happy if Draco freed them. Only eight years old at the time, Draco hadn't thought to ask them why they didn't free the creatures themselves. Nor did he know about predators and prey. He'd learned pretty quickly, and he'd received quite a thrashing from his father over it. Lucius Malfoy did not appreciate being embarassed in front of Ministry bigwigs by the misbehavior of his son.

But that was long ago. The past six months had been sad ones, and George's smile and trickster nature were like a blast of color in a world of gray. That, and the fact that George wanted to include Scorpius, overcame all of Draco's defenses instantly. There had been several women who'd shown interest in Draco recently, but it was clear that they regarded the presence of his son as an annoyance. Scorpius was, very simply, Draco's world, and, if he was going to be in another relationship, it was going to be with someone who would love his boy.

Scorpius was ushered into his father's bedroom by his nanny. He was in black robes with a scarlet bat on the front, as his favorite Quidditch team was the Ballycastle Bats. Draco was sure it was because he liked their mascot, Barny the Fruitbat. He had his Pygmy Puff on one shoulder, and the red corduroy elephant in his arms. "Scorpius, you may bring either Gertie or Ollie."

"They don't want to stay home."

"Bringing them both will be a bit much. You'll have to give one to Nanny to put back in your room."

Scorpius got a mulish look on his face. "No."

"_Scorpius, do not talk back_!" Draco snapped. His son's faced crumpled up and turned red. Draco mentally kicked himself. "I'm sorry. Don't cry, ducky. It's all right. You can bring them both," he said cajolingly. Nanny rolled her eyes. "You are excused, Nanny." The middle-aged woman walked out, shaking her head and muttering.

...

Draco and Scorpius arrived at Sugarplum's early, but George was already there, which made Draco absurdly happy. The ginger wasn't wearing plaid with stripes; he had one of the moving picture shirts on. This one was covered with dogs. Dogs playing card games. Dogs smoking cigars. Dogs in clown costumes. Dogs playing Quidditch. George was holding the hand of a little boy with a mop of black hair. "I told you I was a family man. This is my nephew, Al. He visits me a lot. I thought the two boys might get along."

Draco was startled when the boy gave him a shy look. With those green eyes, there was no question at all as to who his father was. "Hi, Al, this is Scorp." The two boys half-hid behind the men, eyeing each other warily. "Interesting choice of robes," Draco commented.

Albus was wearing bright orange robes with two Cs and a speeding cannonball on the left breast. George grinned. "A gift from another uncle. Ron still believes that the Cannons will win the Cup within our lifetimes, the poor, deluded fool."

"I've always thought he was the least intelligent Weasley."

"I'm afraid you're right." George held the door of the sweets shop open. Instantly forgetting to be shy, the boys went racing in. "Al, look with your eyes, not with your hands, remember?"

Scorpius was mesmerized by a spinning display rack full of bubble-shaped lollipops that had fairies sitting inside them. Draco frowned. "That cannot be a good idea."

"_Want._"

"You do realize that you don't eat the fairy, right?"

"WANT."

"Fine. Which color?"

"Red and blue."

Draco took the red lollipop form the rack and handed it to his son, then rummaged around in his robes for some loose Knuts.

"The blue one, too."

"You can only eat one at a time. You only have one mouth."

"I want the blue one, too."

"You're not getting it."

"I WANT IT!"

"_Lower your voice and mind your attitude!_"

Gertie/Aubriana jumped away in alarm as Scorpius threw himself down and started screaming. Everyone in the shop stared as the boy kicked and beat at the floor. Draco swore under his breath. "Ducky, look, I have the blue lollie for you! Please, please stop!"

Scorpius immediatedly quieted and grabbed his father's peace offering.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." George was shaking his head and grinning. "I can't believe you fell for that."

Draco gave him a frosty look. "I don't believe it's your place to question my parenting."

"Whoa, whoa." George held out his hands placatingly. "I didn't mean to step on your toes. But did you notice that during that performance, he held his red lollie clear of the floor?"

Draco looked over at his son, who was sitting on the floor alternating between licking the blue and the red. Aubriana/Gertie was back on his shoulder, also licking at the candy. The fairies inside were buzzing excitedly. "Losing his mother has been very hard on him."

"He's playing you like a violin." George turned when Albus tugged at his jeans leg, pointing at the edible miniature brooms.

_The nerve of that man_! Draco briefly considered ending the date early. But as he watched George amuse the boys by making chocolate soldiers dance, his momentary irritation melted away.

...

Draco looked around the Leaky Cauldron's shabby dining room doubtfully. It was not a Malfoy sort of place. There was a distinct air of... grubbiness. "I've never actually eaten here. I didn't know _anyone_ actually ate here."

"Trust me, it's the best place in London to bring sprogs. No one gets upset when things get messy, and fussy eaters love the chips. And you can place bets whenever there's a brawl. I won fifty galleons last week betting a goblin would win against a vampire."

Brawls? That sort of thing didn't happen in the restaurants that the Malfoys frequented. Draco inspected all the tables closely, selecting the only one that didn't look sticky. A couple of high chairs floated toward them, nudging adult chairs out of the way. Once the boys were seated, George and Draco sat on the other side of the table. Draco had one hand resting on top of the table; he blushed a little when George put his on top of it. It had been over ten years since Draco had been involved in a public display of affection, and Pansy's touches had never gave him the sort of tingly feelings he was getting now. George's hand was large and square, with freckles on the knuckles. Draco's mind wandered a little, thinking about other places that hand might touch some day.

The boys were over their shyness with one another, and they enjoyed the antics of the two fairies as they rode Aubriana/Gertie around the table while Ollie the elephant trumpeted and waved his trunk. Scorpius' face was dyed purple from his candy. Albus chattered non-stop about... well, Draco wasn't sure, but Scorpius seemed fascinated.

"I brought chips for the little ones, George, as well as a couple of pints of butterbeer. What kind of soup-oh, hello, Malfoy. I didn't realize it was you." Neville Longbottom was giving Draco a surprised look as he set two small plates down in front of the boys. "The soup of the day is eel."

"You work here?" Draco asked. He'd expected Longbottom to be employed in a greenhouse, not a pub.

"My wife owns the place now," Neville said cheerfully. "She makes the best soups and stews you've ever tasted. She's working on perfecting her gumbo right now, if you want to try it. It's not on the menu yet."

"What's gumbo?" Draco asked.

"Stew. It's American."

"We'll take two," George said.

"Coming up." Neville bustled off in his white apron. The boys started on their chips.

"How do I know I'll like it?" Draco asked. _American_? His father had always told him America was filled with nothing but barbarians.

"You won't know until you try it, will you, now." George stroked his fingers between Draco's, a smile crinkling the corners of his copper eyes. Draco's heart sped up.

"Grandfather!" Scorpius exclaimed happily.

_Astoria's father_? Draco followed his son's gaze. On, no. It was Lucius, and he was staring at George with horror etched on his face. Draco braced himself, fighting the urge to pull his hand out from under George's. _Stop feeling like a naughty child_, he told himself; _you are an adult, and you have the right_ _to date whomever you choose_. His father was walking to their table with slow, deliberate steps. _Oh, Merlin's pants_. He stopped, holding his clothes so they wouldn't touch the table and looking down his aristocratic nose. He was so busy glaring at George that he didn't notice his grandson putting greasy little handprints all over his cloak.

"Hello, Father," Draco said weakly.

Lucius didn't take his gaze from George. From George's shirt, actually. "_That_ is the single most appalling item of clothing I have ever had the misfortune of laying my eyes upon, and that's saying something, as I remember how Sirius Black used to dress back in the Seventies. You're a successful businessman, Weasley. It's time to look like one. I suppose it's good enough for-" Lucius looked around with a sneer. "-but if you are going to eat out any place decent, I do hope hope my son acquaints you with Twilfits and Tattings first." He looked down at Scorpius, who was tugging at his hand. "Yes, hello, ducky. Oh, no, that's quite all right. I don't need any chips right now." He ruffled Scorpius' hair, then turned in a swirl of ebony fabric and strode away towards the rear exit.

"Now I know what to get him for Christmas," George said.

Draco managed to suppress his laughter until his father had left the Leaky Cauldron. "It is rather, awful, George. Sorry."

George flapped a hand dismissively. "Old Money never knows how to have fun. I need to teach you how to enjoy the simple things in life. Greasy food, tacky clothes, gingers."

Neville brought their food, looking around nervously. "Your father's gone, then, Malfoy?" He set two bowls of steaming hot stew in front of them. "He kicked me once. It's not like I _meant _ to spill butterbeer on him."

The gumbo was redolent of fresh seafood. Draco ate a spoonful. It was good, so he took another, and another. The spices hit him, and his face turned bright red as his mouth caught on fire. He grabbed his butterbeer and slammed it down in one long pull.

George was shaking his head, amused. "Old Money likes its food bland. Am I right?"

"What _was_ that?" Draco gasped.

"My taste buds say cayenne pepper."

"Whatever that is. I don't think it's allowed at Malfoy Manor." Draco stuck his tongue out to cool it off. It was cherry red.

"I take it you've never had a curry, then."

"A... what?"

"Oh, Draco, I have so much to teach you." George grinned broadly, the wamth in his eyes giving Draco a fluttery feeling in his stomach.

Draco loved the way his first name sounded, coming from George's lips.

...

They were at George's place, which was just behind Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The two little boys played together happily, piling up blocks and kncking them down. The two men sat before a fire on a comfy old couch, holding hands again. "Fred and I were just awful to you, weren't we," George said.

"Well, you did cut all my hair off when I was five."

"We wanted to be barbers."

"Then you drew all over me with Eterno Ink. Mother was hysterical. It took two months for it to all fade away."

"That time, we wanted to be tattoo artists."

"And when you set my boots on fire?"

"We were jealous because you had one of those toy wands that shot out dragons."

Draco laughed. "For the longest time, I thought you and Fred were the only Weasley children. The two of you just were so... conspicuous. It was hard to notice anyone else when you were around."

Scorpius was yawning, and Albus' eyes were drooping shut. "You can spend the night here," George said. He laughed at Draco's startled expression. "I mean, you can sleep in the spare bedroom, and Scorp can sleep in the same bed as Albie. Don't worry, I'm not going to rush things."

Draco smiled. "That would be fine." Pajamas were found for both boys, and they were tucked into a feather bed. Scorpius, who'd never slept away from home before, whined anxiously, he wide grey eyes tearing up. "Are you all right, ducky?" Draco asked, concerned.

"Let me take care of this." George sat on the side of the bed. He kissed Albus, laid a hand on Scorpius' forehead, and began to sing.

" Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green,

When I am king, dilly, dilly, you shall be queen.

Who told you so, dilly, dilly, who told you so?

Twas my own heart, dilly, dilly, that told me so."

The lullabye went on for five more verses. By the time the song was over, both boys were fast asleep. George stood up, careful not to jiggle the bed too much. "There," he said softly. Acting completely on impulse, Draco threw his arms around George and kissed him in a way he'd never kissed anyone before. He could feel George's mouth curl up in a smile. When their lips parted, George asked, "What brought that on? Not that I'm complaining. To the contrary."

Draco couldn't stop grinning. The solidity of George's body in his arms, the freckles, the eyes looking at him with an affectionate amusement, the shaggy red hair, the lullabye... There was a growing warmth inside of him, an entirely new feeling. Draco was beginning to think that, for the first time in his life, he was in love.


	3. Chapter 3

George stepped out of the green flames and into the Malfoy Manor drawing room. He looked around, taking in the enormous table, the family portraits going back centuries, the way the flickering candles in the chandelier cast little rainbows around the room... and the dozens of toys strewn all over the floor. Draco, who'd been sitting on a brocade-covered loveseat in front of the fireplace, stood up as a smile lit his face. George greeted him with an embrace and a kiss that was interrupted by a small body squirming between them.

"Me, too," Scorpius demanded.

"You're awfully bossy for a monkey," George said as he hunkered down to hug the boy. Gertie/Aubriana, who was perched on Scorpius' shoulder as usual, squeaked a happy greeting.

"I'm not a monkey!" Scorpius squealed delightedly.

"Are so. You father got you from a zoo and shaved you. It was in all the papers." George mussed Scorpius' cornsilk hair and stood back up.

"Where's Al?"

"He's at home tonight, Scorp. Sorry. Tonight is a special night for you father and me." George gave Draco a significant look, and Draco flushed.

They'd been dating for two months now. Every date had been a foursome with Scorpius and Albus, and the physical side of their relationship had been limited to kissing while the boys slept. Tonight was to be their first evening alone together, with the understand that things were going to go farther. Draco had barely been able to sleep all week from anticipation and nervousness. He hadn't been with anyone for years. He and Astoria had been best friends, not lovers, and once they had Scorpius, they'd discontinued that part of their relationship without regret. Having never been with a man at all, Draco figured that he was really going to lose his virginity all over again. He hoped his inexperience wouldn't disappoint George.

Draco noticed George scanning the room again. "What is it?"

"I swear, there's more square footage in this one room than there is in the Burrow altogether. This much space... so many possibilities." George grinned.

"Oh, no, you are _not_ having your novelty product exposition at Malfoy Manor."

"Just think of it, purveyors of practical jokes and amusing apparel and magical candy from all around the world, gathered here to demonstrate their wares."

"Candy?" Scorpius said, his eyes widening.

"It was bad enough having Death Eaters and the Dark Lord in here," Draco said.

George struck a grandiose pose. "The hilarity will banish the negativity left behind by Moldy Voldy and his band of not-so-merry men," he declaimed.

"It would happen over my father's dead body."

"I have never seen a man in such dire need of jokes and pranks and general frivolity as your father. He needs Weasley-fication."

"I'll take that under advisement," Lucius said dryly. George jumped a foot in the air.

Draco laughed. "One thing I never told you is how good my father is at entering rooms without being noticed."

"I brought you a gift, Malfoy the Elder." George pulled something out of his sleeve. It was a giant pair of bloomers, white with red polka dots. "Oh, dear, that's not it." George kept pulling. The bloomers were attached to a Gryffindor scarf, which was tied to a beaded shawl, which was hooked on a Wonder Bra... A pile of random clothing was heaped around George's feet before he finally reached the end. "Ta-daaaaah!" It was another moving-picture shirt. This one was a seascape, with darting schools of fishes, playful dolphins, and singing whales.

When it was handed to him, Lucius took it the way most people handled a bag of dog poo. "Why, thank you, Weasley. I did need something to wear while chopping up newts for potions."

George turned to Draco and spread his arms. "My best Muggle/wizard fusion magic trick, and he didn't even crack a smile."

"My grandson seems suitably impressed. Oddly, I am not amused by the same things that a four-year-old is." Lucius held out his hand to Scorpius. "Come on, ducky, you're going to eat supper and then play Snakes and Ladders with your grandmother and I."

"But I want to be with father and George."

"Sometimes grown-ups need time by themselves. Come along."

"We'll just be up in my rooms," Draco told his son encouragingly. "We won't be far away at all."

The lower lip protruded and trembled. The cheeks reddened and the forehead creased. The breathing began to hitch. The Pygmy Puff jumped from shoulder to mantelpiece.

George groaned. "Oh, please, Scorp. Not tonight."

"IWANNABEWITHFATHERANDGEORGE." Lucius sighed and picked his grandson up. When he started to carry Scorpius out of the room, the boy screamed and struggled. "NONONONONONONO."

Draco ran over to his father and extracted his son. Scorpius immediately calmed, clinging to Draco tightly. Looking over the small blond head at George, Draco said, "Oh, he can eat with us, at least."

"And then, after dinner he'll throw another tantrum when we try to send him away," George retorted. "You can't keep letting him do this. He's manipulating you."

"And what makes you such an expert?" Draco asked coldly.

"I'm a Weasley, remember? If there's anything I know, it's children."

"You don't have any of your own. And how could you understand how it is for a little boy who has lost his mother?"

"What happens when he goes away to Hogwarts? The first time he doen't get his way, he'll scream and cry, and then he'll be called 'Snivellus' for the rest of his school days."

The mere thought of his son going away filled Draco with panic. "He can be tutored at home."

George gave Draco a look that was uncomfortably close to pity. "You're going to make your son a prisoner?"

"I think you should leave now. Don't bother coming back. We're through." Draco pressed his face against his son's neck, hiding his eyes.

George's mouth opened, then closed. He nodded at Lucius, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and walked into the fireplace.

"It pains me greatly to admit this, but the Weasley is right," Lucius said.

Draco didn't say a word.

...

This was going to be awkward. Draco took a deep breath, tossed in the Floo powder, and called out, "Number 12 Grimmauld Place."

Ginny Potter looked surprised, as expected. "Oh, hello, Malfoy," she said coolly.

"I, ah, was wondering if, um, Scorp could play with Al. He misses him very badly. He's been crying all morning."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "It doesn't hurt to let a child just cry it out every so often, you know. Oh, yes, George told me _everything_."

"I'm sorry. I won't bother you again." Draco started backing out of the fireplace.

"Wait," Ginny commanded. "Al misses Scorpius, too. It's really not fair that the children should suffer because of your bullheadedness." She stood back. "You might as well come on over. The house is a mess, but there's nothing else going on right now."

The kitchen at 12 Grimmauld place was underground, but it had warm, Weasley-esque homey touches, like knitted place mats, a knitted tea cozy, and knitted pads on the chair seats. A tiny ginger-haired girl scampered around the room as her mother put dishes away. Ginny was still girlish looking, with a face free of make-up and her hair in a ponytail. She smiled warmly at Scorpius. "I've heard so much about you from Al! And you've brought Gertie, too!"

"Al lives here? And you're his mummy?"

"Yes, I am. And that must be Al now."

Al came flying down the kitchen steps, wearing a Chudley Cannons tee and jeans. "SCORP!" The two boys immediately started chasing each other around, nearly plowing the little girl over.

"No running in the kitchen, boys, and watch out for Lily!" Ginny pointed at a chair. "Sit and have some tea, Malfoy." After pouring him a cup, she sat across from him and gave him a hard look. "George is really hooked on you, you know. In the past couple of weeks, he's barely cracked a joke."

Draco started to stand up. "I think I should go."

"If you go, you have to take Scorpius with you, and then he'll cry." She folded her arms and gave him a smug look.

Sinking back down into his chair, Draco said, "You're a very hard woman."

"I was tortured all my life by six brothers. I'm _much_ tougher than you. The only male that ever intimidated me was Harry, and that was only because I was so crazy about him." Ginny paused for a sip of her tea. "Harry tells me your office has been empty since your wife died. George says you spend every waking moment with your son. That can't be healthy. _Boundaries_, Malfoy. They're important."

"Why do you care?" Draco challenged, narrowing his eyes. Anger started simmering in his stomach.

"Number one, my son has become very attached to your son. And, number two, as I mentioned a mere minute ago, my brother is in love with you. You and Scorpius aren't the only ones that have experience a great loss, you know. We all miss Fred, but losing him hurt George in a way that the rest of us can't comprehend. He laughs and jokes with everyone, but he doesn't, he doesn't... he doesn't let that many people really come close to him. I don't really understand what he sees in you beside your pretty face, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that when you two were together, he was happy. Drink your tea before it gets cold." Draco found himself obeying. "That's enough about that. Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?"

Draco scowled as he finished his tea, mulling over all the things he'd like to say back. Rude, impertinent, interfering, incapable of making a decent cup of Earl Gray... _My brother is in love with you_. _When you two were together, he was happy_. He felt his anger evaporate away, to be replaced by regret. He missed George. He missed him a lot. Since he'd broken things off, he felt like he was back in a gray world, with his son the only color in it.

"This is a conversation. You're supposed to say something back," Ginny said in a George-like teasing tone.

"So, you think I have a pretty face?"

Ginny threw her head back and laughed. "Well, George certainly thinks so. He still has a picture of you on the bulletin board in his kitchen." She sobered, putting a hand on Draco's arm. "Please. I don't normally do things like this. But it's _George_. Just think it about it, all right? And bring your son over as much as you'd like. He's adorable."

...

Scorpius heard the calliope music, and he started to dance at the end of his father's arm. "Are we going in? Are we going to see George?"

"We are." Draco paused before the door to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It had been repainted again, in a moving black and white pinwheel pattern that made Draco feel a little dizzy. As soon as the door opened, Scorpius wrenched his hand from his father's and disappeared inside. By the time Draco caught up with him, his son had his arms wrapped around George's legs.

"Does this monkey belong to you, sir?" George asked, grinning.

"I'm not a monkey!" Scorpius shrieked happily as he attempted to climb George, using his belt for leverage.

"I'm afraid so." Draco put his arms around George and gave him a deep kiss. "I'm sorry. I'l try to do better."

"You promise to leave Scorpius at home and spend the night with me?"

"I promise."

"Even if he cries?"

"Yes. But I can't promise that I won't cry, too."

"And you'll let me do whatever I want to you?" George whispered into his ear.

Draco smiled and flushed. "As long as you're not intending to test out new products for your Skiving Snackboxes on me."

"That would just be a waste of a good blond. Tonight?"

"Tonight." They kissed again, not stopping until Draco suddenly realized that Scorpius was no longer at their side.

A quick search of the store found him waist-deep in a bin full small Bounce-A-Lot balls, laughing as they shot in the air and rained back down upon him. A frazzled Verity was unsuccessfully trying to convince him to climb back out. George climbed into the bin, too. He held a hand out invitingly. "Will you join us?"

Verity threw her hands up in the air in surrender and walked away.

It was a bit awkward in robes, but Draco managed to get in the bin. Other shoppers stared at him like he'd gone mad as the tiny balls bounced on his head. "Will this be in all the papers?" Scorpius asked.

"Of course," George said.

"It'll be in the gossip column of the Daily Prophet, at least," Draco said.

"Lucius is going to be so pleased."

"Give him the shirt with the topless dancing girls. That'll make his week."

...

They played until closing time, and Draco took his son home. He handed him over to Lucius. "I'm going to be away for the night, Father. Good night, ducky. I'll see you in the morning." He gave his son a kiss on the forehead and walked back to the fireplace. He flinched when he heard the wailing start, but he didn't turn around.

As soon as Draco entered the green flames, Scorpius' crying stopped. "Can we play Snakes and Ladders, Grandfather?" he heard his son ask just before he emerged in George's living room.

George was waiting with a bottle of Pinot Grigio and a wicked grin. "I knew you could do it," he said as he wrapped himself around Draco and nipped him on the ear. "Now, just relax. This night is all about you, beautiful."


	4. Chapter 4

I'm pretty sure this is the last chapter. But, hey, Lucius torture!

...

It was the 2011 Quidditch World Cup, being played in Belgium. Lucius looked smug as he strode in the private box of the _Ministre_ of the Belgian Ministry of Magic. The box was at perfect Quidditch-watching height, the same level as the goal posts. Lucius was followed by his wife, his son, his wide-eyed grandson, and... his son's significant other. George Weasley. Who, as per Lucius' orders, was dressed in robes as properly befitted a wizard. They were a violent shade of orange that clashed with George's hair, but, yes, they were robes. They also had a large Chudley Cannons logo on the front. Lucius hadn't been aware such robes actually came in adult sizes. He would not have been surprised to find out that George had them custom made.

But Lucius could not complain, because, contrary to all logic and reason, members of the Cannons were playing for the Cup. It seemed impossible, but it was true. Some months ago, Lucius had made a magically-binding wager with George. If a team with players from the Cannons won the Cup, Lucius would not only allow George to hold his novelty expo at Malfoy Manor, Lucius would appear at the expo in one of those ridiculous moving picture shirts. If it didn't happen, George would never bother Lucius with another request to use Malfoy Manor. It seemed like a safe bet at the time. The Cannons were as likely to get a member on England's team as Dolores Umbridge was to win the Miss Diagon Alley Beauty Pageant.

As it turned out, the entire Quidditch season in the UK had been a disaster. Illness, legal troubles, the discovery of the use of potions like Felix Felices, violations of arcane Quidditch rules that resulted in the best teams being disqualified, bizarre in-game accidents... It all led up to today, with not one, not two, not three, but _four _members of the Cannons on England's team, playing Bulgaria for the Cup.

Lucius couldn't help thinking... no. It wasn't possible. No one wizard had the power to turn the universe topsy-turvey. George Weasley did have talent when it came to making socks that turned one's toe-nails into bear claws, or selling Girls Can't Say No cologne to naive schoolboys, or breeding new colors of Pygmy Puffs. But there was no way he could have gotten all of the Falmouth Falcons to get themselves arrested for harassing Muggles with broom-stick fly-bys. He couldn't possibly have convinced all of the Tutshill Tornados to use Kwik Kit's Patented Greased Lightning Reflex Enhancing Potion. And George certainly wasn't evil enough to give everyone from the Yorkshire team spattergroit.

The strangeness was not limited to UK teams. Once all the national teams were formed, all sorts of unusual things began to happen. The team for a smaller African country led a political coup, and they were now far more interested in being leaders in the world's first wizard-ruled nation than playing Quidditch. The Brazilian and Venezuelan teams had disappeared in a portkey mishap; experts said that they would be recovered safe and sound eventually, but no one knew just when. The Australian team was in a Muggle jail after a night of drunken debauchery ended with... well, no one was really sure what precisely had happened; there was something about a bronze statue and exotic dancers and an ocelot. And so on, and so on, until the only teams left were Bulgaria and England.

Lucius firmly told himself that he would not lose the bet. There was no possibility that George Weasley's luck could hold out this long. There was no way a team that was more than half Chudley Cannon could possibly win the World Cup. It went against all the laws of God and nature.

The Belgian _Ministre_ sat just a few seats away from the Malfoys, nodding to Lucius and Narcissa. Scorpius played with a Quidditch action figure-a doll on a broom that floated and flew, obeying the hand gestures the little boy made. Narcissa turned and gossiped about grandchildren with the women behind her. Draco and George held hands.

It was twilight, time for the team mascots to perform. The Bulgarians brought the Veela again, of course. Lucius did not approve. It was vulgar, and it led to interbreeding. The English team's mascots weren't much better, in Lucius' eyes: white clad morris dancers with bells at their knees performing a fertility dance. There was bound to be a bumper crop of half-wizard, half-Veela babies in nine months.

A mound started growing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. As it got bigger and made the ground shake, the morris dancers and and the veela fled. It rose up almost to the height of the goal posts, and the top of it blew off in a deafening explosion. Lava, glowing bright enough to hurt the eyes, flew through the air and flowed down the side of the mound. Lava strings flowed upward and formed the words 'Welcome to the finals of the 424th Quidditch World Cup, sponsored in part by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes'. With a bang, the volcano disappeared, leaving the pitch in its previous pristine condition. A hundred thousand wizards roared as lights snapped on, illuminating the pitch.

Once upon a time, the Malfoy name alone was enough to get perks like watching the World Cup in a private box. Now, it took the name of a wizard who raked in money selling ridiculous things to children.

The Bulgarians flew out first, led by Viktor Krum. Every female under the age of twenty-five squealed. It wasn't just the fact that he was the world's greatest living Quidditch player that got the fairer sex all in a lather; it was the interview just printed in the Daily Prophet where he'd revealed that the reason he'd not married yet was that he'd been in love with the same woman for over ten years, even though she had never loved him back. Lucius didn't believe in such romantic piffle, but young women ate it up, it seemed. Narcissa had explained to him that it was the fantasy each girl had, that _she_ would be the one to mend Viktor's broken heart. If that was the sort of nonsense that filled the female brain, Lucius was glad to have been born male.

Krum was showing off his superior flying ability. He plummeted straight down. A collective gasp issued from the crowd when it looked like he was going to slam into the ground. At the last possible second, he pulled up, shooting skyward so fast he was just a blur. He slalomed around the other members of his team, missing them by fractions of an inch. His showboating was interrupted by the entrance of the English team; their seeker buzzed him, getting close enough to tweak an ear.

A man in the _Ministre's_ box stood and put his wand to his throat and began to speak in both English and French. The two teams took their positions. The match began.

A mere two minutes in, Krum spotted the snitch. The crowd cheered as he wove nimbly between the members of the English team that tried to block his path and dodged bludgers. England's seeker tried to keep up, but he just didn't have Krum's skills.

There was a flash of white, and Krum was off his broom, hurtling toward the ground. The crowd screamed. There were so many _Arresto Momentum _spells performed, the other Quidditch players were unable to move for several minutes.

Krum was gently lowered onto a stretcher and carried off the pitch, his face a mask of blood. Match officials inspected the cause of the accident. It was an albatross. The large bird hadn't survived the impact.

The match went on with a second-string seeker replacing Krum, but the Bulgarians had lost their ability to concentrate. The snitch flew past their seeker and right into the palm of the English team's seeker. An ear-shattering clamor arose from the crowd. Seats were tossed out on the pitch. Fistfights started. George leapt to his feet, swept Draco into his arms, and bent him backwards in a deep kiss. "Oh, my," Narcissa said.

Lucius just sat with his mouth hanging open, paralyzed with shock. "Come on, Father," Draco said when George allowed him to come up for air, "There's an old-fashioned Quidditch riot breaking out. We'd best get Scorpius and Mother out of here." Piles of chairs were being lit on fire by angry veela. One of them flew right by the _Ministre's_ box, clacking her cruel-looking beak. Scorpius burst into tears and shrank against his father. "We'll all meet at the portkey, all right?" George and Draco surrounded Scorpius and apparated away.

Thousands of feet stomped in unison, shaking the stands to the point it felt like they were about to collapse. Lucius contemplated staying in his seat. Being buried under wood and metal might actually be a fate preferable to wearing one of _those shirts_. Vowing to himself to never, ever wager again, Lucius took his wife by the hand and apparated to the portkey.

...

George kept glancing at the top of the staircase. "If he doesn't make an appearance soon, he's going to sprout strawberries all over his body. It's a special variation of a binding wager that my sister came up with."

Draco made a face. "That's a bit disgusting. I would _not _eat those strawberries."

"If you sprouted strawberries, I'd eat every last one." George grabbed Draco and started nom-nom-nomming on his neck, much the the amusement of various attendees of the First Weasley's Worldwide Toy, Candy and Novelty Exposition.

"_Ahem_." The lovebirds looked up. "Are the two of you incapable of keeping your hands off of one another for more than a minute? You're like schoolboys experiencing your first infatuations." Lucius had finally emerged from his rooms, looking mightily irritated. He was, indeed, wearing one of the moving picture shirts. Since the Expo was a family-oriented event, it wasn't the one with the topless dancing girls. This one had cats. Cats at the beach. In bikinis. "This shirt makes absolutely no sense," Lucius complained, "Cats abhor water. Why would they swim or... snurf?"

"Surf. It's meant to be humorous."

"The only humor I see in it is that you think people will actually spend good money on this... crime against good taste."

"Why aren't you wearing the jeans I brought you?"

"There was nothing said about trousers when we made the wager."

George shrugged. "All right. But you're not wearing the shirt properly. It's not meant to go over robes." He took Lucius' arm and steered him toward the Malfoy Manor drawing room. "Time to go to the exhibition hall." Lucius gave George a look that could have frozen the flames of Hell. Draco followed behind them, trying very hard not to laugh. His father wasn't above throwing hexes when annoyed.

The drawing room was packed. Viktor Krum, completely recovered from his collision with the albatross except for a rakish twist to his nose, flew above the crowd as he promoted the Kiddie Kwidditch game: tiny brooms, low goal posts, and soft bludgers, recommended for ages three through ten. Shoals of children ran wild, hopped up on sugar and sheer excitement. Scorpius emerged from the pack, throwing himself at his grandfather and squealing.

"There you are, George! Rose has gotten into one of the new Skiving Snackboxes, and she's got a fungus growing on her feet. Oh, hello, Lucius." Molly Weasley's voice cooled when she saw the elder Malfoy. She scooped up Scorpius for a hug. "Oof! you're getting so big!"

"Molly." Lucius nodded, his chin high. He shrugged off George's hand, swept past Molly, and climbed up on a small dais in front of a rack of moving picture shirts, where he stood with a martyred expression on his face.

"He looks like Joan of Arc being tied to the stake," Molly said, her smile bringing out dimples. "So different from the way he was when he was a boy."

"Oh, Mother dear, do share." George elbowed Draco. "You want to know, too, right?"

Molly tapped her chin. "Hmm."

George gave her his best puppy-dog eyes. "Pleeeeeeeease? Honestly, woman, I can't believe you've been holding back dirt on _Lucius Malfoy_ for all these years."

"It's not dirt, really. It's just...Here, Scorp, here's some Knuts for you to spend. Run along." The boy didn't need to be told twice. He made a bee-line for a table of fighting kites. "Lucius was a bit of a runt. He didn't get his growth spurt until after I left Hogwarts. Older boys would rest their elbows on the top of his head. It made him very bad-tempered, and he was a biter. There were days I wondered if he was rabid. He was always a genius at potions, but he needed tutoring in transfiguration, and I wanted some pocket money. He started to fancy me a bit."

George let out a whoop of laughter. "I was almost a Malfoy?"

Molly sniffed. "Hardly. He was five years younger than me. Well, it all ended when he saw me kissing Arthur. He called me a name a twelve year old shouldn't even know and made Arthur vomit frogs for an hour. Oh, and he bit me, too. On the ankle."

"Just think, Mom. We could have been rich."

"We _are_ rich, these days."

"Lucius," George called as he twitched the hem of his mother's dress up just a little, "Do you think my mummy's ankles look tasty today?" Molly slapped her son on the back of the head. Lucius glared. The look on his face would have reduced most mortals to jelly, but George merely laughed. "Better get used to it. We're going to be family after Draco and me get back from the trip we're taking to Sweden next month."

"That was supposed to be a surprise," Draco pouted as Molly enveloped him in a hug.

"Don't be angry, beautiful. Come on, let's look around." George took Draco's hand and headed for the nearest booth. It was a vendor from China, selling little dancing dragons made of sugar. Next to him was a Norwegian man with model Viking ships floating in a tub of water. Every so often, a ship would pull up to the rim of the tub and disgorge a tiny army of raging Vikings. Across the aisle were hats that changed one's hair to unnatural colors, and slippers that enhanced one's ability to dance.

They were distracted from their browsing by racous laughter. A group of teenagers were using a Never-Miss Sling-Shot to fling marbles at Lucius. Lucius bellowed and pulled out his wand. The teens screamed and scattered.

"You could just release him from the terms of the wager early," Draco said.

"Where would the fun in that be?"

"In not having him hate you with the fire of a thousand suns?"

George sighed. "Oh, I suppose it would be better if my future father-in-law only hated me with the fire of a hundred suns. Lucius," he called, "You can take the shirt off."

Lucius got down from the dais, tore off the shirt, threw it down, and incinerated both the shirt and the dais.

"You have to admit, Draco, your father is fun to play with." He leaned close and nipped at Draco's ear. "Not as much fun as you are to play with, though," he whispered.

"_Ahem_. Please. Save it for your honeymoon in Sweden," Lucius sighed.


End file.
